


I'm Gonna Love You 'Til My Lungs Give Out

by yourenotfree



Series: A Very Gallavich Wedding [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ian loves Mickey, M/M, Mickey POV, everyone loves mandy, mickey loves ian, the happy ending these two deserve, wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:18:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourenotfree/pseuds/yourenotfree
Summary: There were seven billion people in the world, and somehow Mickey had snagged the best fucking one.Alternatively, the wedding fic that you definitely knew you needed.





	I'm Gonna Love You 'Til My Lungs Give Out

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a proposal fic, so this was the natural next step. 
> 
> I hope this distracts everyone from what's been happening in Charlottesville. I don't really want to think about it, either. 
> 
> All my love, friends. Xx.

Mickey Milkovich tugged uncomfortably at the lapels of the dark suit jacket Mandy had just finished wrestling him into, and exhaled a low, “ _Fuck_.”

Mandy, for her part, looked amused. She smirked at her older brother through a mouth painted the bright red color of blood, and said, “You’re such a drama queen, Mick. You look _fine_.”

Mickey was hardly convinced by this assessment. He regarded his own reflection with distaste. He looked fucking _ridiculous_. When he voiced this to Mandy, she merely rolled her eyes, and began typing furiously on her iPhone.

“This is stupid,” he said, trying halfheartedly to recapture her attention. “Ian _knows_ what I fucking look like.”

“And somehow,” Mandy began with a smirk, as she slipped her phone back into the folds of her dark dress, “he fell in love with you anyway.”

Mickey grumbled something unpleasant under his breath, but didn't disagree.

Mandy, apparently done with her teasing, broke into an enormous smile, and clapped her hands excitedly together. “Alright, you are officially dressed and presentable. The rest is all up to you.”

Mickey rubbed his slick palms against his slacks, and loudly cleared his throat. He nodded. “Yeah. The rest.”

She frowned. “Are you going to freak out, or try to escape through the window or something?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you _should_ keep in mind that Ian Gallagher is my best friend, and I will drag you down that aisle to him if I have to.”

Mickey paled. “There’s an _aisle_?”

“It's metaphorical,” Mandy said flippantly, with a vague wave of her hand. “The point is, I _am not letting you out of this_.”

“Aren't you supposed to be _my_ best man,” Mickey grumbled under his breath.

Mandy, apparently having heard this, nodded enthusiastically. “I am. And that makes it my job to get you married today.”

She looked ready to wrestle him to the floor, something Mickey knew she was more than capable of. After a long moment, Mickey sighed. He rubbed subconsciously at the back of his neck, and carefully raised his eyes to meet his sister’s.

“I’m not freaking out,” he told her in a low voice. “Fuck’s sake, _I_ asked _him_ to marry me.” He paused, and tried to ignore the way his voice had begun to shake. “It’s just that…,” he blew out a frustrated breath. “Look, this whole marriage thing is kind of fucking terrifying.”

For a moment, Mandy’s brow was furrowed in confusion, before a look of understanding washed over her features. Her eyes, the same pale blue as her brother’s, softened. She took a hesitant step towards Mickey, and placed a hand on his arm.

“This is different, Mick,” she began softly. “This is _Ian_.”

Did she think Mickey didn't know that? Not a single day went by that Mickey didn't look at Ian, and wonder if this—him and Ian, and all the hell that came with it—had been a dream. Mickey still woke up every morning expecting to find the sheets beside him empty. He still woke up every morning expecting to find his tyrant father smoking in the kitchen, and his little sister crying and bleeding in the bathroom.

Ian was always beside him in the morning (and suffocating him with his long fucking octopus limbs), Terry Milkovich was rotting in a prison cell (Mickey had his fingers crossed that someone would take it upon themselves to stab him to death one of these days), and Mandy’s eyes grew brighter by the day (this, Mickey thought, was the biggest miracle of all).

Mandy’s hand on his arm called him back to the present. “You _do_ want this, right?” She looked suddenly alarmed.

Mickey dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, and stifled a groan. “Of course I want this,” he ground out, burning with a sudden flash of anger. He was sick and tired of being _questioned_. Hadn't he proven, time and time again, that he would do _anything_ to make Ian happy?

“I know what Ian means to you,” Mandy said quietly. Her hand was still gently squeezing his bicep, and Mickey was caught between a desire to rip his arm away, and another to draw his sister in and hold on for dear life.

In Mickey’s silence, Mandy continued. “If this—marriage, Ian, all of it—is what you want, then _go and get it_. You can't let all that shit in the past stop you from having the future you deserve.”

Mickey removed his hands from over his eyes. He held an arm out, and allowed his little sister to wrap herself around him. They stayed like that for some time, and when they finally pulled away, Mickey was smiling.

“Where the fuck did that little speech come from?” He asked in semi-disbelief. “Jesus, my little sister is smarter than me.”

Mandy smirked, but it was more fond than smug. “That's never been up for debate.” She half-shrugged. “I’m getting introspective in my old age, I guess.”

A rapping at the door effectively ended the moment. The door opened, admitting a brunette woman in a short, black dress. A brilliant smile covered her face, and lit up her eyes. “Almost ready in here?”

Mandy returned Fiona’s smile with equal enthusiasm. “Just about. How’s our other groom doing?”

Fiona scoffed in amusement. “Practically bouncing off the walls. That is the happiest kid I’ve ever seen.”

Mickey’s heart sped up at the mere mention of Ian. His throat had gone suddenly dry. He had been separated from Ian for most of the day, and he was growing more and more anxious by the second to see him. To be near him.

God, he fucking missed Ian. A pathetic, unreasonable amount.

Mandy adjusted the skinny straps of her sequined dress, and slipped into a pair of heels that made Mickey’s feet ache in sympathy. With that finished, she turned to assess Mickey. “Well, I’ve done all I can do, Mick. It’s now or never.”

Mickey blushed furiously, but Fiona’s smile was unwavering as she looked him over, head to toe. “You look handsome, Mickey,” she said, with the kind of sincerity that rang true in every word. “Let’s get you hitched.”

-

Mickey rode shotgun to the courthouse, half-listening as his sister rambled on and on about how she couldn't believe this day had finally arrived. His stomach twisted and untwisted as they inched towards the obnoxious, stone building.

Once Mickey stepped a toe onto the hot pavement of the parking lot, time bended and blurred. A hand at the small of his back hustled him inside, where a crowd of loud voices and teary eyes fell upon him immediately.

Mickey couldn't hear a word of what they were all saying. Every nerve in his body was _burning_ with the desire to _find Ian_. He scanned the courthouse lobby in a daze, eyes seeking fiery hair and calm, green eyes.

Noticing his distress, Debbie ran a reassuring hand back and forth across his back. “He’s with Lip. Waiting for you inside.”

He was directed to stand in front of a set of double doors. The entire Gallagher litter, along with Kev and Vee, filed in before him, leaving only Mickey and Mandy waiting outside.

Mickey inhaled, exhaled. Beside him, Mandy smiled. She took his hand in one of hers, and squeezed gently. “You ready for this?”

He didn't know how to adequately express just _how_ ready he was. Very simply, Mickey nodded, and reached for the doorknob.

The first thing he saw when he entered the room—the first thing he saw when he entered _any_ room—was Ian, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

Because Ian, Ian, _Ian_. He was so fucking beautiful, and Mickey was suddenly struck dumb. This kid—this stupid, ridiculous, _amazing_ kid—had agreed to marry him. _Him_ , Mickey Milkovich. There were seven billion people in the world, and somehow Mickey had snagged the best fucking one.

He felt a firm tug on his arm, and realized that he had frozen in place, when he was supposed to be moving forwards. After another shaky breath (had Ian’s eyes _always_ been that green?), he allowed Mandy to lead him towards the place where Ian stood waiting.

Mandy released Mickey too quickly, and threw herself into Ian’s waiting arms. She was laughing as she pulled away, pressing noisy kisses all over his face and murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like, “You sure about this one?”

Mickey made a sharp note of protest, but Ian only smiled wider (if that was fucking possible; the kid looked like a goddamn jack-o-lantern at this point). His words were for Mandy, but his eyes were drowning in Mickey. “Of course I am.”

Ian stretched a hand out, and Mickey clung onto it as tight as he could. He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. “Gallagher,” he said gruffly.

Ian shot him a wink. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Mickey wanted to kiss him so badly his teeth ached. He held his ground, and flickered his annoyed gaze over the minister. “Let’s get this fucking show on the road.”

The minister, for his part, looked amused by this. He cleared his throat, and began. “We are here today to celebrate the marriage between Ian Clayton Gallagher and Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.”

Ian’s lips twitched at the sound Mickey’s full name spoken aloud. Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Everyone knows why they’re fuckin’ ‘ere. Just skip to the vows.”

Ian giggled adorably ( _Jesus_ ) at that.

The minister flipped a few pages in his large, black binder. “Ah, here we are. Ian, do you take Mikhailo to be your husband?”

Ian’s eyes were wet as he answered. “I do.”

Mickey squeezed his fingers and murmured, “Sickness, health. All that shit.”

“And Mikhailo, do you take Ian to be your husband.”

It was almost laughably surreal, hearing those words, and comprehending what they meant. After everything they had gone through to be together, it was finally going to be official. Mickey almost couldn't believe it.

Ian was watching him calmly, green eyes glimmering like stars. “You want me, Mick?”

“Always,” Mickey answered immediately. “Course I fucking do.”

The minister closed his binder softly, reminding Mickey of his presence. “Then it is my distinct privilege to pronounce you husband and husband.”

Ian was crying openly now, sniffling and everything. He placed a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck and grinned dopily.

Mickey could read the question in his eyes like a book. “C’mere,” he whispered, just for Ian, and reeled him in.

Ian’s mouth opened under his, hot and familiar. Mickey cupped Ian’s face between his palms, and pressed himself as close to Ian’s chest as humanly possible.

He wanted to pour himself into Ian’s veins. He wanted to lose himself in the fire of it all.

“I fucking love you,” he murmured against Ian’s lips, feeling distinctly unstable as he held onto him.

Ian wrapped both arms around Mickey’s neck. “I love you, too.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
